Grain, Pain, and Smiling in the Rain

Monday, April 24, 2017

So my cookies are messed up and it took me best part of an hour to get this far. I am not even sure if I can publish. The new computer has no stored photos, so I cannot spice up the post with color or cute.
Just me and the keys and not everyone home, there is little hope of my tapping out anything profound or funny; or even coherent.
Done for today.

Saturday, December 31, 2016

Its quiet. I'm alone.Dishwasher is running.Washing machine is running.I brushed the crumbs off the counters; floors always need swept anyway.I sit. Listening to the fish tank, didn't fill quite full enough; the sound of water gliding over mossy stones ripples behind me. Sucking in the deep quiet. Measured breathing. A good dog at my feet. My heart should be at peace. Resting. Relishing the moment. Morning chaos imprinted, leaves me with a rumbling heart. I know His peace is tangible. Touchable. I am close. For now that is enough.The knowing. Is enough. So often we think we need. Deserve. More. He says His Grace is sufficient. His Peace He leaves with us. Expect trials. He carries us.His Words. He is The Word. And it is good.

Tuesday, November 01, 2016

So, almost eleven months since I put any words in print. Print that I saved or shared.
Bravely I sit on my front porch staring out at the view and farm I love.

I was supposed to with a bunch of women friends at Eat n Park celebrating my two week past birthday. A group of us bound together by God meet monthly for worship and prayer, studying who God is and how we are to walk the paths He has called us to travel. Additionally, we gather on the first Tuesday of every month to celebrate the lives of those of us born in that month.
Dressed and ready to go my husband got; the phone call. Larry our farm hand was broke down. Combining soybeans in the driest of damp fields, his Gleaner grinds to a halt. Disappointed, I released him to go. Too late to find a sitter for the boys, grandsons eight and nine, permanent residents, sons now really, could never be left alone; maybe till they marry.
Regardless, here I sit. Not at Eat n Park. Not with my friends.
Again.
See, the girls all get together for their bimonthly gatherings. Rarely, do I attend.

Having kids at fifty-eight can be a little challenging. We have a few sitters. And, we have grown children who would are happy to help out sometimes. But last minute. Right now. A tough one.
But tonight we had it in the bag. I was going.
Disappointed. Again.
Quickly, God dropped into my heart. Well, A piece of a verse. I am not a good memorizer.
Google. Must love Google.
New Living Translation,
Romans 5:5
5. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because He has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.

Boys throw the football back and forth on the gravel path in front of the house. Begging for praise for the amazing catch or pass.
It is good.
I am not disappointed.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

It's the being open that matters. Folks will tell you, "God picked you for this tough task because He knows you are strong enough.. Nope, pretty sure not. God uses the very weakest to pour His strength into. I'm thinking we are not expected to be whole enough to hold or contain His mighty strength; just open to receive it... So if it spills. Leaks. Overflows out the top of my tiny heart. So be it. I am not solitary. The strength will be used by Him who gave it in whatever, over, into whomever is near. It s ok I can't hold it or carry it all. Being open to receive is the matter of if all. What happens to the Spirit of God as it flows through me is not my worry.

I have shut myself up tight. Avoiding the touch of the Father. avoiding the touch of any who might ask of me more than I feel I am able to give. Because it's true. I am unable. I am weak. But then it's not about me anyway. Is it? Retorhical question. Jesus wants to use the weak and barely willing to reach and heal and bless and build up the broken. He will use my crawling when I cannot stand to demonstrate none of us are good enough. Strong enough. Only He in us lies the victory.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

I get it now. In had to experience it first hand. For myself. Feel my heart swell. Melt. Explode with joy. Simple. Thank you Ammie. And for what? A pen. A pen to play Tic Tac Toe. With me.. Thank you. Straight from heart. No pretense. And how blessed was I..

And so, that is the secret. The eurcharisto. The lesson I have stumbled. Tripped. Danced. Over and around for two years. Gratitude. Not for the great and the large. But the simple. Honest. From the heart. The hearing of it blessed me beyond the confines of language. I knew it meant love. The deepest act, expression of love. And I was undone.

So that's it.

It's what He wants. From me. He will receive my thanks as love.

All week I had haggled with myself and with Him to hear the revelation I felt, the lesson i was to learn hear in the sun. It was all about a pen.

Defeated in paradise. I grappled with my tiger wild. biting. Whining. Defiant. Tongue sticking out. Face making. Disrespectful. Did I mention whining. Tantrum throwing boy cubs. Stunned, I felt helpless to reign them in. Here in the sun all the while home frozen and subarctic, life should be beautiful.

My heart longed to be able to impart the obvious. Can't you be grateful.

And while the mediocre coffee gurgled and I grumbled in my heart, longing for a better cup. I saw. I remembered. The pen. The words that followed.